


Acolyte

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Blow Jobs, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Depression, Hand Feeding, Historical, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Picnics, Pining, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), prince of omens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Crowley, currently pretending to be a snake god in Ancient Egypt, flees to one of his temples to escape all the demons staying in his quarters awaiting entertainment in the form of the Ten Plagues.  A surprise awaits him there.I wrote the first chapter forWhiteley Foster's DTIYS challenge, which in this case is more of a “write it” rather than “draw it”, obviously.  Thank you so much for the chance to play in your sandbox!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 142
Collections: Hot Omens





	Acolyte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> Reposted upon request from little-bloodied-angel from my [Tumblr](https://theangelsflashbastard.tumblr.com/post/190463049186/acolyte-mature). Thanks for reminding me to post this. I hope you don't mind I mentioned your name here. :)

_The Temple_

It was a lesser temple and one he rarely visited, but Crowley need some solitude this afternoon. The demons living it up in his section of the palace were starting to get on his nerves. It was like someone had suddenly loosed swine in his quarters. But he didn’t expect anything more than piggish behaviour from the other denizens of Hell. He looked down his aquiline nose at them while they thought very little of him in return and that was just fine. For the most part they stayed out of his business. He would have Earth to himself once again as soon the plagues passed taking the entertainment with them.

He padded quietly on bare feet into the small temple where a priest chanted prayers to him and acolytes performed such ceremonial activities as lighting incense and holding the papyrus prayer scrolls for the priest as he went about his rituals. He looked up, his kohl-lined eyes surprised to see the human form of their god before him, but to his credit, he didn’t miss a beat.

Crowley had come here partially incognito, trading his familiar fine black garments for a much simpler shendyt in red. He wasn’t surprised the priest was completely caught off-guard.

He sat down in the barely used throne, one skinny leg drawn up under him while the other was bent with a foot upon the seat so he could rest his elbow on it. He fixed the priest with a piercing gaze from his serpentine eyes.

“I hope there’s plenty of wine,” he said quietly, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. “I plan on spending a few days here.”

“Yes, my lord.” The priest made his obeisance to him. “We have restocked your personal supply with only the best vintages. Every expert vintner has made a tithe.”

“Good. You are free to go. Take three days off. I need my peace for now.” Crowley gestured vaguely at the door, wishing up a gold goblet and jug of wine by his side as he did so.

Wide-eyed and wary with not small amount of fear, it was not often your god made a personal appearance, the priest bowed and backed out the door. The acolytes quickly cleaned up their messes and followed their master, backing out, never taking their eyes off Crowley.

With a melancholy sigh, he poured himself the first of what he expected would be many cups, taking a sip as he closed his eyes. His other senses came sharply into focus and he suddenly sniffed, the familiar scent of his hereditary enemy suddenly overpowering the rather strong incense used in religious ceremonies. His eyes snapped back open in alert awareness while his body prepared to have to fight his way out of here before relaxing once again upon realization that this particular version of the scent was kind, warm and welcoming.

Sliding off his throne, he noticed one acolyte was still over in the corner by the altar, extinguishing incense and putting away golden baubles used in various types of empty prayers sent up to a demon who was only playing the part of a god. He approached the devotee, who had his back to him as if he didn’t even notice his god had bothered to make an appearance, putting a hand on his shoulder before it simply slid off in surprise.

The meticulously styled black hair faded like the illusion it was to be replaced by a much shorter white-blond cloud of loose curls. The figure turned smiling towards him to hold his serpentine gaze with one from blue eyes the exact shade of the sky on the most perfect of cloudless days. 

“Angel?” he asked dumbly as he stared his counterpart on Earth directly in the face.

“Hello there, my dear.”

He squinted at Aziraphale whose eyes were perfectly lined with kohl that brought out the blueness even more although Crowley had long doubted that was possible. Stepping back to take in the entire look, he struggled to keep his shock from causing his jaw to hit the stone floor they stood on. Aziraphale as long as he had known him was one to dress modestly. For him to appear in public with so much as his forearms bare would be akin to him walking around half-naked. To think he had come with the priest and other acolytes to the temple and waited for Crowley to make an appearance wearing what he was currently swathed in would be unthinkable if Crowley was not currently witnessing it himself.

He was wearing a shendyt of fine white linen that left little to the imagination despite falling to his calves. Slit open on both sides, it was pinned in place by two golden disks upon his hips which were etched with angel wings, Aziraphale’s favourite motif. But that was not the only gold he was wearing. He sported golden cuffs like Crowley’s, bangles on his ankles and a gold chain with an angel wing pendant. 

“That’s an awfully brave look for you. I like it,” Crowley commented, stepping forward to nuzzle close against Aziraphale’s neck, lipping at his necklace, planting kisses along his collarbone. “Oh, angel . . . you don’t know how badly I needed to see you.”

“Obviously I did since I bothered to take the time to sneak in here in this rather skimpy outfit,” Aziraphale replied good humouredly. “You were sending out misery I easily picked up on.” He sighed contently as Crowley showed his appreciation by covering his entire throat with kisses. 

Humming thickly, Aziraphale traced his fingers up and down Crowley’s back while Crowley worshipped his neck. He felt Crowley slowly start to relax, tense muscles becoming more lax as he passed his hands over them using just a touch of healing power to help the transformation along. 

“Come,” said Crowley, finally, taking Aziraphale's hand in his own to lead him to the throne. Sitting again upon it, Crowley drew him up in his lap, burying his face in those golden curls. He felt Aziraphale’s arms encircle his neck in return and his teeth upon the edge of his ear, nibbling tentatively as if afraid of biting Crowley too hard. 

It was difficult not to let his mind wander to more lascivious activities with Aziraphale kneeling there over his lap, his buttocks placed firmly on Crowley’s thighs, his arms around him bringing their bare chests into skin-on-skin contact. Yet even this felt good. How long had it been since the two of them had been able to engage in such close contact? Decades. Before Hell had decided it sounded like a great idea to install Crowley as a snake god smack in the middle of an Egyptian dynasty in flux thanks to the whole slave situation.

Now was not the time to be thinking about his orders or the horde of demons he was forced to house as they eagerly awaited the promised entertainment of the plagues. How ironic that Heaven was the one who was raising the Human Misery Stakes this time instead of their lot. 

“Here,” he said to Aziraphale, helping him shift so he was seated in his lap rather than straddling it. “That can’t be comfortable like that especially since this damn thing is made of stone. Gods apparently don’t require comfort. Wine?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“We still have plagues to go through, angel, and they’re just taking up space in my quarters awaiting them like the obnoxious animals they are,” Crowley said miserably. “Drinking my wine. I want this over with so I can leave this cursed city.”

“I know, my dear,” replied Aziraphale, stroking his well-defined cheek. “I’m here now and I’m not expected back for two days. We have some time to not think about it, even if it’s only temporary.”

“Help me forget?” The pleading look in Crowley’s eyes was almost enough to break Aziraphale’s heart. Here was a being who Fell, who was supposed to be evil, yet in tender, gentle moments like this where Crowley appeared almost shattered by what Hell forced him to do, Aziraphale wondered if Heaven had gotten it right when it had shown him the door. Was it possible that a demon could actually be a sensitive soul?

There had to be some good buried deep in Crowley because he would have never been attracted to him otherwise. Any chance at even friendship would have died on the vine had he displayed any of the malicious tendencies of the likes of Hastur or Ligur. He would have remained nothing more than Aziraphale’s rival here on Earth. A being to thwart, not one to love. Maybe that bit of goodness Crowley possessed was not buried as deep as Aziraphale thought.

He put a finger to Crowley’s lips. “Shhh, don’t think of it.” He replaced the finger with his lips, kissing Crowley more passionately and with more love than he had ever displayed for any other living creature. “Think of me. Of us.”

The world changed. They were no longer in the throne room of Crowley’s temple, but in the unused quarters usually reserved for the priest who kept the temple. Crowley had evicted him some time ago, telling him to go find a suitable dwelling for himself in the city. The few temples scattered around were the only places of solitude he had these days and he was too jealous of his privacy to share. If he was going to spend time moping around the throne room, he certainly did not want the presence of some priest upstairs wanting to dance attendance on his upset god to ensure said god did not send a plague upon the crops or livestock.

Lips upon each other, Aziraphale laid Crowley back on the crisp, white linens of the bed, trailing his hands down to that simple red shendyt. Questing fingers loosened the tie holding it around Crowley’s waist then slid it down completely off him. While he was undressing Crowley, Crowley was returning the favour, undoing the golden discs that held on his own garments so that they fell into a puddle of linen on the foot of the bed, mingling with the red ones already discarded there.

Their lovemaking was gentle and slow. Crowley wrapped his legs around his lover as Aziraphale tenderly thrust, drawing out the pleasure as long as he could. He peppered Crowley’s neck with soft kisses, willing him to forget the events to come, if even just for a moment. Closing his eyes in pleasure, he sensed Crowley’s hands on his back, meandering down his spine, sometimes clutching briefly when Aziraphale became a little more excited, a little rougher. He knew Crowley was tracing over the whip scars from long ago wishing he could make them vanish.

“Don’t think about those,” he whispered in his ear. “Past history. Stay in the here and now. Let me pleasure you.”

So they continued like that, loving each other in ways forbidden by their sides, an angel and a demon locked in the physical act of adoration; heredity enemies in love, hoping their actions could keep their missions at bay if only momentarily. They climaxed thinking only of each other and the loving act between them. 

“Angel!”

Aziraphale lowered himself down beside Crowley where they exchanged tender touches and kisses while Aziraphale stroked that long, red hair. Gentle encouragement to get Crowley to relax further. From the half-hooded gaze he received, Aziraphale decided it was working. Soon the sleepy, satisfied serpentine eyes closed in slumber, trapping Aziraphale there in bed with Crowley, who had wrapped himself quite thoroughly around Aziraphale's wonderfully plump body that was perfect for cuddling.

It did not matter to Aziraphale. He had chased the dark thoughts from Crowley’s mind, allowing him to completely relax in Heaven knew how long. He settled in, content to touch him while he blissfully slept for a few hours. It was enough that the weight had been lifted for a short time. Aziraphale would keep the monsters away for the next two days. It was a small thank you for all the times Crowley had been there for him, but it would have to do for now. 

~*~*~

_The River_

Crowley sat on the crisp linen sheets, legs crossed, Aziraphale seated behind him his legs around Crowley, running an ornate wooden comb through his hair. Aziraphale’s hand moved rhythmically through Crowley’s tresses causing his golden yellow eyes to close in contentment.

“You’re using a miracle to blur those marks on your back and all that’s doing is making me curious,” Crowley commented between near-purrs. “Also Gabriel’s going to have your hide if you keep it up.”

Aziraphale shrugged. What he was doing barely counted as a miracle. He carefully attacked a tangle left over from a few hours ago’s more . . . intensive . . . activities. Eventually here Crowley would melt into a boneless puddle of relaxed demon making the questions moot.

“They are nothing. Forget about them.” Aziraphale carefully added another layer to his miracle that would make Crowley’s mind slide off the subject of his whip scars while he was here, forgetting about their existence.

He was here to enjoy forbidden time together with his counterpart before the plagues began, not cause him more undue worry. Maybe one day he’d have to explain how a slave driver beat him and how he kept the scars as a reminder, but it could stay in the undetermined future for now. He knew that there was an explanation as to why Crowley didn’t come to his rescue that day. Based on cryptic comments made by him, Aziraphale suspected there was also a very good reason he didn’t flee the city with him and Moses those twenty years ago. The most plausible justification was Hell had something to hold over Crowley’s head, forcing him to stay. 

But Aziraphale knew he would not leave Egypt without Crowley again.

“I’m going to fall asleep here.”

“That is fine, my dear. You need to relax while we still can.”

“Relax, yes. Doze away my time with you, no.” He reached back, stilling Aziraphale’s hand before scooting around to face him. “We’re backed up against the river here. Would you like to walk along the banks?”

“I have a better idea,” Aziraphale replied. “Meet me out there.”

Crowley walked among the gently blowing reeds watching ducks paddle by lazily near the banks. He stepped close enough to feel the cool mud on his toes, wiggling them in it for a moment before stepping into the shallows to wash his feet clean. He missed the simple sensations like this – the mud oozing over his feet, the breeze blowing his freshly-combed hair, the sun’s heat warming his skin. He spent all his time ensconced in stone buildings advising a Pharaoh who was becoming increasingly stubborn to his suggestions. The life of a deity had become stifling even before the invasion of demons.

Aziraphale appeared from temple, carrying a basket covered with a straw mat, and a jug of wine. Unrolling the straw mat, he placed it among the shade provided by the reeds, setting the basket on it along with the wine. Sky blue eyes looked up at Crowley with a smile, inviting him to come on shore and sit on the mat.

He started unpacking food from his basket – bread, cheese, dates, pomegranates and grapes. Last to come out were honey cakes for dessert. Aziraphale handed Crowley a woven straw bowl filled with the cheese and fruit, taking one for himself. Two gold goblets appeared, ready receptacles for the wine. Crowley poured that while Aziraphale was serving the food. 

“Thanks,” he said taking the bowl from his lover and giving him a cup of wine in return.

Aziraphale leaned in for kiss, tasting the fine vintage Crowley had sipped while he was serving the wine, savouring the feel of Crowley’s lips on his own. Finally he felt Crowley pull back with a laugh.

“Plenty of time for that after we eat,” he said, putting a grape up to Aziraphale’s lips.

“A day and a half,” replied Aziraphale gloomily after taking Crowley’s offering. “Then we have the plagues to endure. I’ve been given the general idea of what to expect, but Gabriel’s holding his cards close about the last one.”

“I thought you came here to cheer me up and now the opposite is true. I guess I’ll just have to make us some time to make you happy.” With a swift motion, his hand came up in a snap of his fingers and the world became still. “I can buy us about half a day safely.”

Aziraphale graced him with his most radiant smile, the one that made Crowley light-headed with fanciful emotions. The goblet of wine he held nearly slipped from his grasp as he recovered and tried to smile in a non-awkward manner back at him. He set it down to keep any embarrassing mishaps from occurring.

He slipped closer to Aziraphale, closing enough space between them it would be easier to touch, kiss and possibly pop more grapes in his mouth if Aziraphale was willing. Crowley held one up, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, an eyebrow raised in question. Aziraphale gently took the grape in his teeth, offering one in return. Crowley had ideas besides accepting a grape from his partner. 

With a sly smile, he stayed Aziraphale’s hand, taking it in his own to caress for a moment before putting one angelic index finger in his mouth. Licking along it briefly, he pulled it completely in sucking along its length. Aziraphale’s sky blue eyes half-closed in pleasure, a smile ghosting across his lips. Crowley moved on to the next finger, this time biting gently at the tip, running his clever tongue along the pad before drawing it into his mouth. A small moan escaped Aziraphale’s lips. 

“Oh, Crowley . . .” he whispered breathlessly. “We have lunch to finish.”

“What if I want you for lunch?” Crowley was already reaching towards the robe Aziraphale had thrown over his shendyt, wishing to slowly divest him of it while covering every portion of his body with kisses.

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley rejoiced to hear the sound. “At least we will not have to worry about the flies getting to the food.”

With a demur look towards the straw mat they sat on, he slid closer to Crowley, shrugging the open robe off his shoulders in invitation. Aziraphale offered him a date. “You might need your strength.”

Crowley bit into it. “I’ll be fine, promise. When do I get the main course?”

He leaned forward to push that extremely annoying robe further down Aziraphale’s arms and finally off, tossing it casually over into the reeds. Long fingers lightly brushed down Aziraphale’s arms as he tasted him, lipping and licking along his neck, nibbling up towards his jawline until finally he closed in on his mouth, tasting the grape he fed him earlier. 

The straw mat was against Aziraphale’s back, Crowley pressed tightly upon his chest. He could taste wine and dates as Crowley explored with mouth and hands, his tongue eventually leaving Aziraphale’s mouth with a quick nip to his bottom lip as Crowley sat up, leaning over to snag the wine goblet he had set down earlier. 

Smiling, he dipped his finger in it, dripping wine down Aziraphale from his exposed neck to the waistband of the shendyt he still wore. Aziraphale gasped in surprise as the wetness hit sensitive areas like the hollow of his throat. It was followed by the hot trail of Crowley’s tongue lapping up the wine from navel to neck. Fangs pricked at his collarbones sending such feelings through him. He dearly wished to strip Crowley bare to take him right there, foreplay be damned.

“My turn, angel. You had yours earlier. And I have a whole feast here in front of me.”

Wetness splashed on to his chest, concentrated on his nipples. The fact that the liquid mostly ran off down his sides mattered not to Crowley. He licked up the wine dripping down his ribs, teasing before leisurely working his way up to more sensitive regions. Lust shot through Aziraphale brought on by fangs lightly raking over a nipple before one very talented tongue lapped up the small amount of wine dampening it before moving on to the next nipple. Both were teased red and Aziraphale himself to almost begging by one demon taking his time sucking and licking. Finally he gave one such a bite that  
Aziraphale jumped in delicious pain. 

“Crowley, please . . .”

Crowley sank lower, blowing on Aziraphale’s shendyt, making it join the robe over by the reeds along with his own clothing. Slyly he eyed the goblet of wine then Aziraphale laying there so patiently. Dipping a finger in again, he dripped it on Aziraphale’s cock, the coolness of it compared to the heat of the hot midafternoon air causing Aziraphale to suck in his breath. Crowley decided it was a good sound and downed the wine left in the cup, holding as much of it in his mouth as possible. 

Immediately he slid his mouth on to Aziraphale’s cock, boldly drawing the entire length inside before his own body had a chance to heat the cold wine. Aziraphale gasped in response, his hands seeking out Crowley’s hair to tug, as Crowley swirled his tongue over the shaft before finally swallowing the quickly warming wine so he could really get to work. Fingers intertwined in his red locks, undoing some of the brushing he had done on it earlier.

Crowley moved quickly this time, eager now to please Aziraphale. Fingers caressing the erogenous spots on Aziraphale’s inner thighs, he turned serpentine eyes dilated by lust up towards his partner, inwardly smiling to see the passion expressed on his face. It didn’t take long before Crowley, between sucking up and down the shaft and gently stroking his inner thighs and testicles, brought Aziraphale past the point of no return. Taking in as much length as possible, he prepared to feel the warm liquid of Aziraphale’s climax rush to the back of his throat and beyond. The fingers tangled in his hair tightened, pulling it taut off his scalp as they both finished up. 

Lifting off, Crowley said, “I’m going to need you to let go of my hair, angel. Unless you don’t want me to give you more orgasms.”

“Oh. I am sorry, my dear.”

Oil was wished up and spread generously over needed areas then Crowley slithered up Aziraphale, eyes level with his, Aziraphale's hands flat against his back, his legs secure about Crowley’s hips. Pushing in gently, he relished the feeling of being inside _his_ angel just as much as he enjoyed hearing the slight “ah” escape his lips. He stayed motionless, savouring the moment while allowing Aziraphale some time to adjust before beginning to move.

Demons did not love. Could not love. Had no desire to love. Crowley figured he must not have been much of a demon. He loved Earth enough to hate the idea of plagues. He loved humanity for its cleverness even though he tried not to get close to humans with their brief lifespans. Most of all he loved Aziraphale, he of the one species in existence he should not feel any emotion except hatred towards. When he told Aziraphale he could have anything he wanted, it wasn’t much of an exaggeration. He would give or do anything in his power possible for him. He’d risk punishment from Hell if he needed to, if the choice was that or harm coming to the one whom he loved so much.

Love poured out of him right now as he did his best to please Aziraphale, thrusting in and out, adjusting his angle when needed, placing kisses on sensitive areas he could reach. Listening to Aziraphale’s response, Crowley gauged his enjoyment by how his soft hands wandered Crowley's back, occasionally clenching to the point fingernails dug into his skin. Or how his legs tightened their grip if Crowley moved in a particular manner. 

Anything for this beautiful angel beneath him, his face made even more gorgeous in the glow of lust, passion and love. He nuzzled in close, putting as much skin-on-skin contact between them as he could and still make love to him. Demons could love if they allowed themselves to, especially if they allowed themselves to be loved in return.

He felt Aziraphale shudder beneath him as he climaxed a second time. It pleased Crowley that he could give him that and soon he joined him, finishing himself in a burst of lust and love before he simply lay down completely on top of him like he could not possibly ever get close enough. 

_I love you, Aziraphale._ He could not give the words voice, but maybe Aziraphale could hear him speak them in his mind. 

Eventually they sat up then bathed briefly in the river before returning to lunch. They ate leisurely, hand feeding each other the fruits and cheese before finishing up with the honey cakes, smiling and laughing the entire time. The looming plagues were forgotten for now. 

They would enjoy this extra long afternoon for as long as Crowley could hold time at bay. He would still time again for Aziraphale on future occasions, just as he would do almost anything for him, this unexpected breath of fresh air who came into his existence and unintentionally turned it all upside down. But Aziraphale was worth that. It was the unexpected things, like falling for your enemy, that made this life worth living.


End file.
